


The Golden Cove

by adrift_me



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, F/M, Fluff, Golden Age, Mention of Gravebone, Mostly Gen, Pre-Relationship, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-17 07:47:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18960943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrift_me/pseuds/adrift_me
Summary: Hidden from the common view, there is a place where glitter fills the air, where cheer and merry drinks never end, and where music and songs claim everyone's hearts.Newt asks Jacob, what is the secret of this place?And Jacob tells him, it is anything you are looking for.But whatishe looking for?





	The Golden Cove

**Author's Note:**

> Here is my another contribution to the Fantastic Beasts Calendar fic! :) I hope you like it!

Newt stops in front of an unassuming door to what is a pawnshop. In his hands he holds a note - a referral from his brother Theseus who insisted that if Newt needs to find a place to stay in New York and make sure his suitcase is secure, then this is the place.

Newt looks up again, eyes narrowed, as he stares at the large pawnshop sign, inviting people in. There is a poster beside it about them accepting old books, rings, valuables and many other trinkets. The window is piled with oddities and antique items, brass scales and prototype typewriters and a few cameras.

With a shrug, Newt steps inside the dusty place to see a pair of dull eyes studying him and then looking away. That would be the owner of the place, Newt assumes, a middle-aged man in a tweed suit. Behind him is a door and all around him are mounds and piles of things that people have brought in.

“How can I help you?” the man asks, gesturing at the display beside the cash register. “Are you here to pawn or to peruse?”

“Oh, actually, I’m...” Newt stutters and smiles in mild embarrassment. Gaze down at the floor, he walks towards the man and shows him the referral. “I was advised to--”

“Ah,” the owner says, smiling much more lively than he was a moment earlier. “Just a moment, sir.”

He fumbles with something behind the counter, looks at the windows and steps around the counter. With a heavy hand he hurries Newt to walk through the backdoor, unlocking it. The lock makes a tinkling sound, and the man pushes Newt in. “Enjoy your stay at The Golden Cove, sir!”

Newt turns around to thank the man, but sees only his back and a swiftly closed door. There is only one way left, which is ahead, towards the dark tunnel that winds down and down the stairs, to where music is dull and slowly getting louder with every creaking step. There is chatter too, softest whisper of it. Newt follows the sound through the old halls, through tongues of torn wallpaper, which eventually turn into something much more amicable. There is a massive curtain of velvet ahead and an arching wooden entrance. Newt carefully pushes the velvet and steps into a partially empty hallway. There is a youngster sitting by a desk, fast asleep and his hat a little askew. And a little further ahead - another archway, hidden behind yet another curtain of dark gold.

His steps careful, just as he would stealth past a dangerous beast, Newt passes by the clerk and pushes his fingers through a tall curtain that leads him to…

Ka _ boom _ .

Thousands of golden fluttery confetti explode in the air in a glittery rain that descends upon dozens of people. They cheer and whistle as music begins to play first accords, loud and cheerful, welcoming.

Someone rushes past Newt, pushing him into the thick of the crowd and with an embarrassed grin he makes his way to wherever the crowd is thinner. Here and there are feathers and pearls and tweed, long cigarettes and glasses of sparkling drinks, clinking heels and sharp shoes, riches and joy and cheer. And wands, of course, drawn out to cast spiraling streamers into the air, to conjure an umbrella to prevent all that glitter from getting into carefully styled hair.

Newt pushes through the crowd, apologizing over and over in an odd British manner, barely avoiding stepping on people’s toes and having them pass by all too close. He sees a long bar counter on the side of the interior, and makes his way there, out of the crowd and out of the misery of an overwhelming society. He finds a vacant seat and settles his suitcase on one of the stools, holding onto it, checking the locks.

“Care for a drink, sir?” someone calls for him, and Newt turns to see a big man by the counter, smiling at him warmly. That smile would suit a baker or a child caretaker, but not this place of careless pleasures and fun. Yet he seems so entirely relaxed and perfect in his place, that Newt finds him rather likeable.

“No, thank you,” he declines politely, making sure one more time that the locks are still in place, and then sits onto the stool, holding the suitcase in his lap.

“I’ve never seen you here before,” the bartender says, rubbing the edge of a glass with a small cloth. He is distracted for a moment, nodding at someone who sits on another stool further away, but then turns his attention back to Newt. “British?”

“What gave that away,” Newt says, not really seeking an answer.

“Your accent! And you look kinda… uptight. Almost like Miss Tina, but everyone knows she ain’t what she seems.”

“Miss Tina?” Newt says, looking around across the crowd, looking for no one, yet his eyes fix on the singer on the stage.

Against the shimmers of glitter stands an Asian woman, young and smiling as she opens her mouth to sing a welcoming song about the delights of nightly entertainment, about dancing and not caring about much in the world.

“The Golden Cove welcomes all of you!” she says sweet and loud, and the patrons cheer with her. The song is happy, and the crowd takes it away with dancing to the music.

Newt turns back to the bartender to realise he was talking all this entire time.

“...like Miss Queenie.”

“Ah,” Newt says, looking up from beneath a fringe of red hair.

“I am right here, Jacob,” says someone with a stern loud voice over the music, and both Newt and the bartender, Jacob, turn to look at the lady to the left. Her big eyes are on Newt, piercing him with curiosity and seriousness.

“Tina Goldstein,” she says, reaching out to shake Newt’s hand. He hesitates, almost reaching out, but instead slides his hand to smoothen his hair. Tina doesn’t even blink and pulls her hand away, then gesturing at Jacob, indicating two drinks.

“Right away, Miss Tina,” he says, getting to work with bottles and glasses. Newt stares at him again, lost in the sound and glitter. Something is trying to catch his attention, yet he can’t quite place it, can’t grasp it, until Jacob pours the drink for Miss Tina - and then it clicks.

“You are a no-mage!” Newt exclaims, nodding at Jacob who gives him a bright apologetic smile that bears no apology.

“Well, no one minds because everyone likes Jacob’s Gigglewater and caramel buns on Sugar Tuesday,” someone says and Newt meets yet another person. Dressed in a flapper dress of pinks, swirls and waves of pearls on her neck, shoulders, her chest, and a feathered ornament around her head, she looks stunning.

“Oh thank you, honey,” she says happily, rubbing Newt’s shoulder and sitting on the stool beside him. Bewildered, he studies her. At that point Jacob serves two dark green drinks in glasses that Tina and the other woman pick up.

Newt, abashed and weighed down by attention and glitter and music (the girl is on to another song which is slower, allowing the air to lighten up for conversation), looks down at his suitcase.

“I’ve never met you, do I know you?” the woman asks, and as soon as Newt opens his mouth to talk about his brother, she nods and smiles and closes her eyes for a moment. “Theseus! Of course! Oh he was a lovely dance partner.”

“You are a legiliment,” Newt asks, half a question in his tone. Miss Queenie shrugs with a giggle and downs her drink. Miss Tina sips it quietly, boring her gaze into Newt who would rather she stopped. But her eyes… there is something about them.

“What has Theseus sent you here for?” Queenie requests, her composure changing a little to a more business like.

“I have some business in New York and I need a room,” Newt explains. Someone passes by, and Tina, Queenie and Jacob pause to greet them, before Queenie looks at her guest again.

“But of course! We have plenty of space to spare!”

With a swift gesture of a wand, Queenie conjures a key from thin air and drops it in Newt’s hand.

“Your room is 204. No down payment, but it is 5 sickles a night. Breakfast is at whenever you are hungry, honey, and drinks are always on us.”

Queenie smiles at Newt, who holds onto the key, already imagining all ways of escaping. 

Except that he doesn’t. Not for the first day and not for the second. Instead, he carefully roots into the place, studying it cautiously as an observer. It is not the first time he watches wild nature, but right now it is a wild nature of humans. A whole new habitat, and it is as if the world has never told him that humans can be that interesting too.

Take Jacob, for instance. A no mage in a world that should be cruel to him - but it isn’t. Patrons love him and take him as their own kind, they share merry drinks and talk their problems away over the counter. He treats each and everyone nicely, and Newt can’t help but like him more and more.

There are patrons who come every day, too. An odd couple, one would say, frequents the place at midnights, a young man with eyes colder than ice but a smile so warm, and a man on his arm, older and handsome enough to overwhelm the glitters and beauties of the place. Jacob tells Newt that they’ve met here and that their story is full of secrecy and charm of danger.

There is another man, clearly a squib, enjoying the wonders of magic in his own way. Per Jacob’s words, that is a son of some rich New Yorker, who wouldn’t notice his younger son’s disappearance but cares much more about the older one.

And many more people that Newt somehow manages to remember. Two women of power who dance happier and sharper than the rest, a man who only ever drinks liquor and studies people just like Newt, a sleazy government clerk who tries to find his way into society, and so many more. 

On one particular day, Newt asks Jacob.

“What is the secret of this place?”

“It is simple magic. Everyone is happy at the Golden Cove, and finds what one is looking for. What is it that  _ you _ are looking for, Newt?”

He shrugs over a cup of tea and an eclair. He isn’t looking for anything, he doesn’t think so. It is usually someone or something else that is looking for him.

“Newt!” a voice calls to him, and he turns around. Brown sharp eyes, clever and cold and witty, stare him down. 

“Tina,” Newt smiles a little, lowering his cup all too loud on its saucer.

“Queenie said you were looking for me,” she says with a question in her tone. Newt watches her settle down on a stool and smiles. He doesn’t remember telling Queenie that, but… perhaps, she is right. And he may have an answer to Jacob’s question, too.

 


End file.
